Kiss Me Hard Before You Go
by VivianVandam
Summary: She was a Witch he was an Assassin, brought together by fate or by chance neither knew. After a failed attempt to kill the Prince, a known Templar, Dante was sucked into a sting operation getting mortally wounded guaranteed death...till she...saved him.


The Witch and the Assassin

VivianVanDam

Part One: Summer Rain 1773

Thunder rolled over head, violet blue eyes opened at the sudden sound. Round freckled face, long raven hair splayed out around her waist. Her arms stretched out behind her head, wind carrying the scent of coming rain. Wind brushed, and played with the grass against her bare arms. Goose bumps rose against her skin, and she felt the cool shiver. She stared at the growing gray clouds, covering the beautiful sun, blocking out its warm rays.

Sitting up, stay blades of grass clung to her hair, and earth brown dress. She breathed in deeply, looking at the rolling clouds, she had relaxed. She brought her knees to her chest, laying her chin down on her knees. Zeus wasn't happy about something…

"_But I don't really mind…"_ She smiled to herself, playing with a blade of grass. The wind picked up, carrying her hair from behind her, to wrap her in tindrils of silk. She closed her eyes, and relaxed just about as much as she could. The earth was moving underneath her, the air was around her, and the rain was about to cover her, melt her into nothingness.

"Ugh…"

Her ears perked up, tilting her head off into the direction of the sound. Someone was coughing, and coughing hard. They didn't sound too good. The woman turned around, and face the opisite direction of the wind. She just caught the shadow of someone tumbling down the hill. She placed a hand to her mouth, and stood. Picking up the hem of her dress, she kicked up her heels and started running barefoot to the figure.

"Sir!" She shouted. She was running just as fast as she could.

"Are you alright?" She shouted, her voice carrying an Irish lit.

She reached him just as he collapsed onto the ground, his hand held his side as tight as possible. When she dropped to her knees, he laid on the ground; she could see the blood pumping out through his fingers staining the white and blue robes he wore. The hood was up, hiding his nose and eyes; only his lips were visable, a very pronounced goatee was all she could see upon his chin.

His lips pursed in pain, as the woman attempted to reach out to aid him, a blade was pressed against her slender throat. She didn't move, she only looked at him with her eyes casted down upon him. Her plump pouty lips pursed together.

"Give me your hands…let me see them." He ordered. The woman stayed silent for a moment before moving her hands.

"Slowly." He barked.

She listened moving them slowly, exposing her hands. He took a long look at them, she only wore one ring, an amythest in a marquise cut, bound in silver.

"Did you see what you wanted to see?" She asked. The man looked her over; her eyes captured him, they were the most peculiar shade of blue…or were they purple? He couldn't tell. He didn't want to pull the blade away from her throat, unsure if she was armed. However, the blood that pumped from the wound on his side made him weak, his sight blurring.

"I guess so." He replied. His voice was shaking, trembling…he felt out of place. Odd…however, her eyes were temping, skin white as snow. Her face round, with the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks…the pained look in her eyes seemed genuine.

The sun made her eyes glimmer and sparkle, like the stars in the midnight sky. With only a glance, no one would find her beautiful, but…up close, her personality spilled through her eyes, and the snow white skin. Her lips, were a shade of red she had never seen.

"_I wonder if they're soft like rose petals…"_ He wondered, finally he looked at the plain brown bodice that pushed up large breasts, that too were a crème colored. However, she was a thick, plump woman…at what she could tell, in her face she was eighteen the oldest.

"What's your name lass?" He asked, pulling his hidden blade from her throat. She watched the blood flow over her hands, the worry in her eyes overcame anything else she might've been feeling. When her eyes landed on his face, she got a decent look at him. He wasn't that bad looking…

"_No…I have to concentrate."_ She snapped at herself.

"My name doesn't matter, what matters right now, is getting you the help you need. You're bleeding pretty bad." She touched the fabric moving it to the side.

"It looks pretty deep…" She gave him another look.

"Let me patch you up…I can help." She gave him a soft smile. For a long moment, he sat there feeling sleeping, and then…

"Errrr." His stomach growled, and this time she cracked a smile and giggled.

Without warning she took his arm, wrapping it around her neck. She looked at him.

"On three…" She readied her legs.

"One, two…" She stood, and he followed with a heavy grunt.

He towered over her small 5'4 frame. She couldn't tell how much blood he had actually lost, and she didn't want to test out how much more he could loose before he would black out on her. She tried supporting his large 6'6frame, and that failed.

"Oh my Goddess…you're too tall!" She cried out half way to her hut. She had to stop, she looked at his tan face, that had turned ash and lips turning pale.

"I…I'm fine…" And he collapsed, on the ground right on his face. She put hands on her hips in full tea cup mode, shaking her head slowly.

"Great now I have to drag you all the way to my hut…" She sighed, taking his hands, and started to pull.

…

The strong scent invaded his nostrils, strong enough to make him turn his head and cough. His head ached, temples throbbing. When he tried to move, his side started to pinch. Wincing he groaned, finally opening his eyes.

"I've never been this sore before…" Reaching up, he rubbed his eyes, yawning, moving his hands to his face. Other than the crackling of fire, there was a soft padding against the rood above his head.

"Ah bloody bullocks…" He groaned.

"Watch your mouth sir." It was that soft, sultry voice he heard in the meadow. He didn't open his eyes, but laid on the bed, that felt…almost like wool and feathers.

"That wound you got there is pretty bad. I almost lost you during the early morning." She said, what followed next was a soft chant.

"By the goddess of the moon, and of the sun…Athena, Apollo I pray to you. Please help me enrich these herbs, to give this man his strength and regain his health."

He tried looking at her, however from the dim light of the candles gave nothing away; making it difficult to see. He closed his eyes, relaxing his tired, and sore muscles. He allowed the smells to enter his nostrils and help relax him.

"With the drop of blood, I give as a sacrifice please help."

He sat up.

"Oh no you're not!" he snapped, recoiling in sudden pain.

"Ah…!" He cried out.

"You damn witch! What the hell did you do to me?!" He screamed, taking his side in his hand, breathing hard. Already, his skin flushed with sweat. He watched the woman place her hand over the mortar, the drops of blood, splashed into the stone. The wave of lavender, vanilla, and camomille washed over his straining muscles. He started to teeter, and wobble.

"What…are you doing to me…?" He groaned, collapsing face first into the dirt floor. The witch turned around, sighing in agitation before the rose red lips turned up in a smile.

"I may be a witch, but I just saved your life." She replied, shaking her head slowly.

As he laid on the dirt ground, looking up at her beautiful face, the brown gown soaked from the rain. Clinging to all her curves, her swollen breasts….within her hand, she held the dagger. His blue eyes went wide with sudden shock. Even as he attempted to push himself up, his body wouldn't give. Whatever she had did to him, made him immobile.

"Go ahead, kill me hellspawn…" He spat in her direction. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain of being impaled, what he didn't expect was the sudden burst of beautiful, sultry laughter that had relaxed his muscles.

"Why in the world would I kill you when I just saved your life?" She asked, tilting her head as she tossed the dagger to the side. He took in a sharp breath forcing himself to sit up against the bed. He felt woozy, weak, and lightheaded. Her bewitching eyes, made it that much more difficult to think.

"Who are you working for?" He snapped, his eyes stayed on her.

It was that beautiful, stunning smile that caught him.

Another wave, sage, rosemary, more lavender and…thyme? He couldn't tell, but the smoke filled the hut making his head swim.

"I work for no one…now…" She took a pot that held some sort of liquid inside, and poured it inside an agate cup.

"You have a choice….let me help, or suffer." She stirred the contents before turning back to him. He kept leering at her, grunting. Shrugging, the witch placed the cup against a vanity that held stones, a stick that looked like a wand? He couldn't tell. It looked like redwood, or oak.

A sudden shock of pain, that flooded the man's eyes made her feel horrible…but he had to learn to trust her. One way or another…even if Apollo disagreed. It had to be done…his rune, moved vibrated against her alter. She knew, he wasn't happy. The vibrations made her uncomfortable.

"W…what's your name…?" He asked, the accent touched her. Made her stomach…do odd things. She narrowed her eyes.

"That wasn't a normal wound sir…who are you, and what were you doing in my meadow?" She asked. He looked at her, a look that made her clench her teeth. Rarely has she ever felt anger, but he had made her feel it deep within her chest.

"I…" She moved, taking the cup handing it to him.  
"Please, don't make me force you to drink it. It's rose water, mixed with healing herbs. Please, just don't…I don't want to force you…" She was pleading. Those ethereal eyes…pushing against his will. She knelt down beside him, her hand on the back of his neck.

"Please…" She begged again.

Willingly he opened his mouth, she let out a soft breath as she tilted the cup. The contents were sweet, against his tounge and warm flowing down his throat. She finally pulled away when the contents were gone. It was her smile that got him. The gentle ebb of her heart, he watched her pulse in her throat. Her breasts moving the way she breathed. He waited a moment before attempting to move, the pain seemed to ebb away in throbs. His back was to her when she finally spoke.

"My name's Myrrh."

He looked back at her, stunned. Then, he thought.

"_If she was a Templar she wouldn't have told me her name…she would've killed me outright in my weakened state…"_ He sighed sitting on the comfortable bed.

"And you?" She asked, running her fingers over the rim of the cup.

He gave it little thought, and no hesitation.

"Dante." He replied. She smiled, grabbing herself a drink before she noticed him watching her carefully.

"Are you really a witch?" He asked, and she nodded.

"I wouldn't have all of this for nothing." She replied rolling her eyes. Dante grunted, trying to sit down. Her eyes watched him, as he sat. He was watching her, waiting to see if one or the other would make a move.

"You should sleep, it's the best way for the elixir to work." That when she turned from him.

His eyes watched her unlace her bodice, his mouth watered and for a second he almost thought he was going to get some.

"What are you doing?" His voice cracked, watching a woman undress in front of him…mainly one as stunning as her…

She looked over her shoulder, within the candlelight her eyes flickered, danced and teased. A small smile slipped across her lips.

"I said you should sleep…" Her fingers snapped, he fought to stay awake.

And he failed.

The room went black.


End file.
